


Choices

by Guessimaclotpole



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dark Magic, Dark Merlin (Merlin), Druids, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/pseuds/Guessimaclotpole
Summary: Chaos strikes Camelot when Aredian the Witchfinder accuses Merlin and Morgana of sorcery. The two manage to escape before their looming death sentence, but what will Arthur do? After a string of horrific events, Arthur leaves on his own quest; meanwhile, Merlin and Morgana face their own demons on their journey to find safety.Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or it's characters, no matter how much I wish I did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was very pleased to be paired up with Cedesdraws for this fest, whose artwork and prompt were both amazing. I have never written a Dark!Merlin kind of fic before, so this was very new to me!

“For the crime of practicing magic in Camelot, and for using it to get close to the future king of Camelot; I hereby sentence you, Merlin, guilty of treason to the throne.”

Uther stood at the front of the hall as his words filled the air. His voice was ripe with barely-contained rage and an unrelenting fear; but it was not Uther who Merlin let himself gaze upon.

He was held by two knights who not a day before he had considered friends; but it was not them he looked at. The writhing and shouting body of Morgana was on her knees, also restrained, but it was not her he watched. The weakened body of Gaius sat slouched against a column, frail after a week of starvation and dehydration beneath the castle. Merlin couldn’t look at him.

Arthur Pendragon, to whom Merlin had always pledged his loyalty to from day one, despite their differences, stood behind Uther and to the right. Merlin could feel the prince’s glare burning through his skin; and though it pained Merlin above all else, he did not return Arthur’s observing eye. 

The reason Merlin and Morgana were here, was because Merlin had been wrongly accused of using magic. Of course, Gaius had immediately taken all the blame, but after a week of unbearable torture, Merlin could do nothing else but come clean to the King. In an act of loyalty to Gaius and to the throne, Merlin had manipulated all of the drapes, flags and banners in the hall to create a giant Pendragon crest. 

For what he considered a act of bravery and honesty, he was now on his knees before Uther and the man who had instigated all of the scaremongering in the centre of Camelot, Aredian the Witchfinder. 

“I must admit, I was not fooled into believing that my own ward would be capable of magic.” Uther moved towards Morgana, his tone hostile yet apprehensive. “How you could be so despicable as to try and keep such a thing secret from me? I see it now for what it was, an attempt to steal the throne from the rightful heir.” Uther waved a hand loosely in Arthur’s direction, but Merlin didn’t let his gaze falter from where his eyes met Aredian’s as he stood back and observed.

“You must also be charged with treason. I took you in as my own and all along it was a ploy. The both of you,” Uther stood back, between both Merlin and Morgana and hesitated; a slight quiver in his voice. “You will look at me while I sentence you, boy.” Uther snapped.

Aredian smirked, and when Merlin tore his gaze away from the man in control of Uther’s decisions; he swore that in that final moment, he saw a flash of gold in Aredian’s eyes. 

Merlin met Uther’s cold eyes and didn’t flinch once when he and Morgana were dealt their sentences. They were to be burned together at the first light of the sun the following day. 

Merlin didn’t hear the gasps of the court as he was dragged through the hall, and he didn’t hear the cheers of Aredian or the power-mad words of Uther Pendragon. He didn’t hear Kilgharrah’s voice in his mind, telling him to find a way out, and he didn’t hear the screaming protests of Morgana. He didn’t hear Gwen pleading with the members of the court, and he didn’t hear the quiet cries of Gaius as he too, was led away by Camelot’s finest knights.

What Merlin heard amongst the flurry of panic, uproar and hysteria; was the unsurprised sigh of a prince who hated magic as much as his father. If any real treason had been committed by Merlin, it was only to himself for believing that he ever had such a good friend in Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin didn’t bother to fight or protest as they were tossed into Camelot’s dungeons together. It was only when Morgana had seemingly finished her enraged screaming, that Merlin allowed himself to speak.

“I am sorry, Morgana.” he said, his empty voice an apt portrayal of his feelings. 

“No, it is I who must be sorry. You should have been able to tell me, Merlin. You should never have had to keep it a secret. I was too scared to ever talk to him. Maybe if I had—”

“No matter how or when Uther found out about your magic, he would always have reacted badly, Morgana,” Merlin said, because it was probably true. They were both idiotic enough to let themselves remain in the heart of a city that would have them killed for who they were. 

“Yes, you are probably right.” Morgana sighed, the stutter in her speech betraying her fight with grief. 

“Come on,” Merlin said, patting the floor to his right. He may feel nothing, but it wouldn’t do for Morgana to come to her end in such a state of sadness. He would let her find some comfort in having at least one friend amongst this mess.

Morgana perched next to him, turning her body towards him and letting her forehead fall on his shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Merlin. You deserved better,” she mumbled, wiping her tears.

“Yeah, so did you,” he replied, stroking her hair and resting his chin atop her head while he embraced her. 

He figured they would stay like this until it was their time to die, or maybe he could kill them both painlessly with magic before Uther had the chance himself. He pushed their fate to the back of his mind, and he and Morgana talked their way into nightfall. Morgana talked of her dreams concerning Arthur’s multiple near-death experiences, and Merlin told her about his misuse of playful magic as a child. They found it within themselves to share a few laughs at their own expense, and the kingdom soon grew quiet around them. 

Merlin was just drifting off to sleep, his head in Morgana’s lap, when light-footed steps could be heard approaching their cell. Morgana’s hand stilled on his head and upon hearing her gasp, he opened his eyes.

“What do you want?” spat Morgana at the cloaked figure in the door. Though Merlin’s old blue cloak would be a good disguise outside of the castle, inside the castle Arthur was always recognisable by the way he carried himself. 

“Why did neither of you say anything to me?” he asked, pulling down his hood to reveal the bags under his eyes and the hurt in them. 

Merlin fought the urge to be sick.

“Oh, what would you have done, Arthur? You’re just as bad as he is!” Morgana let out an inhumane laugh and Arthur physically recoiled. Merlin just pushed the balls of his hands to his eyes and wished Arthur would leave. This didn’t have to be harder than it already was.

“How can you be so sure? I don’t know what I’d have done!” Arthur shouted in response, and Morgana snorted.

“We all know you, Arthur. Unless it concerns you directly, you won’t stand against Uther.” Morgana patted Merlin’s hair once more before removing her hand, causing Merlin to open his eyes again. Arthur was looking right down at him, and for the first time, Merlin found his face completely unreadable.

“Maybe it does concern me directly,” muttered Arthur, a falter in his voice. Then, he straightened his back and gestured at Merlin and Morgana. “And what is this? When were you two a… a  _ thing _ ? You didn’t think to tell me that, either? What do you want me to think? You didn’t—”

“A  _ thing? _ ” asked Morgana, her voice high and loud with disbelief. “You think that because we are sharing a moment of mild affection that we are a ‘ _ thing’ _ ? No, Arthur, we’re just trying not to be miserable before you watch us die!”

Merlin gulped and sat up. His own magic was beginning to pick up on Morgana’s and it wouldn’t help anyone if Morgana were to lose her temper now. 

Merlin took her hand, squeezed it, and offered her a soft smile, before turning to the cell entrance and facing Arthur through the bars. Their eyes met in a way they hadn't before; and for the first time since his sentence, Merlin had to fight tears. 

“Merlin, why—”

“I think you should go,” interrupted Merlin, his voice shaking, and even though Arthur’s expression seemed hurt, Merlin couldn’t forgive him now.

And so Arthur took a step back, nodded once, and pulled up his hood.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” he whispered, then he turned his back on the two of them and left.

Merlin waited until there wasn’t a sound to be heard before turning to Morgana.

“I have an idea.”

Morgana nodded along as he explained his previous encounters with the cells beneath the castle, and how they were no match for his magic. They came up with a plan that would see them out of the grounds, but after that they’d need to improvise. 

And so Merlin raised his hands and said the words, and soon after, he and Morgana escaped hand-in-hand, to the sound of Camelot’s warning bells behind them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur had successfully avoided speaking to anyone since the trial, if one could even call it that. He had bided his time in his empty chambers, and waited until nightfall to confront Merlin and Morgana; he just hadn’t been expecting the hostility and hatred. 

It was almost too much to think about. Morgana having magic was one thing—after all, they had been each other’s shadows growing up; but Merlin? He wouldn’t have ever believed Merlin had magic if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. 

He stormed his way through the castle grounds and back up towards his chambers. He understood Morgana’s anger to a certain extent. After all, Uther had been her father for all intents and purposes, and before the meeting, Arthur had tried to make him see reason; that perhaps there’d be a way to have Morgana cured rather than killed. Of course, where magic was concerned, Uther didn’t listen.

What Arthur hadn’t understood, was Merlin. As far as Arthur could remember, Merlin had never been a very ‘touchy’ kind of person; he was usually quite awkward at the best of times. To see Merlin on the ground, his head on Morgana’s lap while she caressed his hair like that… and his face. His expression when he looked at Arthur was just so empty, so void of anything. There wasn’t even any anger or resentment at the knowledge that he was about to be put to his death. There was nothing.

Arthur had always thought that if he hadn’t been the Prince of Camelot, that maybe he and Merlin would have been good friends; but maybe Merlin wasn’t who he thought. Maybe Merlin didn’t care as much as he had led Arthur to believe.

Regardless, Arthur wouldn’t see them die. He’d wait until it just before the break of dawn and he’d get them out. Hell, he’d even go with them if he had to. 

As he turned towards his chambers, he noticed that the door was ajar. In normal circumstances he’d be worried, what with it being night, but there was no mistaking the smell of floral soap and working metal.

Arthur stopped in his doorway to find Gwen perched on the side of his bed facing the window.

“Guinevere?” he asked, curtly, because right now the last thing he needed was company.

Gwen stood, her eyes distracted. She fidgeted with her sleeve and began to talk. “I— I didn’t know who else I could safely turn to. Morgana and Merlin are  _ not  _ evil. Morgana has been suppressing these nightmares, and God knows that everyone has been doing what they can to help keep them at bay. And Merlin—Merlin is… well he’s  _ Merlin _ , Arthur, he wouldn’t hurt a fly even if—”

“Guinevere,” Arthur repeated, walking around the bed and settling a hand on the maid’s shoulder gently. She nodded and stopped talking, resting her own hand atop Arthur’s. 

“You must do something, Arthur. I can’t watch my two closest friends get executed. Not after my Father… Not after everything.”

Arthur’s throat instantly dried up at the memory of Tom’s fate, and how it had been unfair and unjust. Gwen was right, of course. She usually was.

Together, they discussed a plan. Arthur would distract the guards and Gwen would unlock the cell. The four of them would escape together, if they were fortunate, and together they would go to Ealdor where they could begin to discuss how to do things from there; how to keep everyone safe.

Gwen had sneaked into the kitchen for food and Arthur had filled the waterskins. It was too risky to bring horses, but if they were careful, perhaps they could go unnoticed. Arthur knew his knights better than anyone, and he knew better than anyone how they could be avoided. 

He and Gwen met in the corridor to the back side of the courtyard, where they hastily made their way towards the stairwell.

What they hadn’t expected were the warning bells. 

“Wait!” Arthur grabbed Gwen’s arm and pulled her around the corner just as a flurry of knights ran down towards the dungeons. People were starting to appear left, right, and centre which meant only one thing.

Arthur looked at the pyre set up in the centre of the courtyard. Merlin and Morgana had escaped without them.  

 

* * *

 

“Sire, please unlock your door. This is urgent!” came Sir Leon’s voice from outside of Arthur’s chambers.

“I wish to be left alone, Leon,” Arthur called back. He hadn’t moved from his bed since learning of Merlin and Morgana’s departure. The hours of sunshine had passed and Arthur had done nothing but think. He couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do.

“Sire, I must insist. The king requires your presence on the balcony immediately!”

Arthur knew Leon well, and had it not been for the ever-so-slight quiver in Leon’s voice as he spoke, Arthur would not have opened the door. Leon didn’t falter his speech as Arthur lifted the lock and returned to his bed. Leon followed him eagerly and desperately.

“Arthur, I implore you. If you don’t go, he’ll just do it without you. He didn’t even consult with the council. He just…”

Arthur squinted when he realised why Leon had stopped speaking. The sound of bells echoed through the castle and what followed was an eerie silence. What was happening?

“Leon?” Arthur asked, feeling a pang of dread in his gut.

“Sire, please come with me,” Leon insisted, and Arthur nodded.

Arthur noticed the way Leon ran. Sir Leon was a friend and Arthur knew him to always be cautious; but now he ran carelessly, feet sliding and slipping on the floor as he went. Arthur kept pace just behind him as they raced together; but rather than head towards the balcony, Leon led Arthur down to the courtyard.

“Leon?! Why are we—”

“I don’t have time to talk about it. We just need to get there.”

Arthur felt lost. He was the Prince of Camelot, and in the last 24 hours his two closest friends had escaped the kingdom after being sentenced to death. Now he was being led through the castle by his first knight to an unknown destination, surrounded by crowds of people—

Why the hell were there this many people in the courtyard?

Then, Arthur could hear his Father’s voice ricocheting off the walls like a cold whisper, and he couldn’t make out what was being said no matter how hard he tried. He just ran, doing his best to ignore the gasps of shock and worried whispers around him; but in his rush he lost sight of Leon. He paused to look around, trying to see through the sea of people in the courtyard; straining to see a Pendragon red cape amongst the natural clothing of the villagers.

He heard him before he saw him.

“We’re too late.” 

Arthur spun around upon hearing Leon’s voice, curious as to how, above all of the noise in the courtyard, he had heard Leon’s mumble.

He made his way to the knight’s side and grasped his arm; fingertips digging into the chainmail on Leon’s bicep.

“Leon?” Arthur asked, his eyes searching Sir Leon’s as they gazed just past Arthur to the centre of the courtyard. Arthur faltered upon seeing a familiar opening in the reflection of Leon’s eyes. The courtyard was only ever this full, only ever this hushed if… But who…

“And for his crimes of consorting with sorcerers who had conspired to seize the throne—”

Arthur turned slowly, following the line of Leon’s gaze, but he couldn’t see enough. He barged forward, avoiding Leon’s attempt at holding him back, and shouldering his way through the crowd.

“—only death is a justifiable punishment. Let this be a warning to you all—”

Arthur froze upon seeing him. His clothes were torn, hanging from his frail body as he knelt before the kingdom he had always been so committed to.

“—that in the fight against magic, Camelot will always win. Goodbye Gaius.”

In his mind, Arthur lunged forth, arms outstretched in a bid to save the man he once thought of as family. In reality, Arthur was frozen where he stood as the sound of metal rushed through the air and the people of Camelot screamed and cried, and Arthur shut his eyes, only to see burned into his mind,  the look on Gaius' friendly, old face. No disappointment, no sadness.

Only hope.

Arthur felt his entire world shift, leaving him unbalanced and apart from everything. For all that he had believed that magic was evil, he was certain that there were worse things in the world. Worse people. People, or rather a person, that he had looked up to all his life. 

Arthur had made a mistake.

He had to find Merlin and Morgana.

 


	3. Chapter 3

He soared, the wind filtering through the gaps between his feathers. The weightlessness, the feeling of gliding, the knowledge of being far away from his own problems just for a moment— it was all he needed. 

In the distance, a familiar voice told him to go back, to go and see what was happening. He didn’t want to, but he knew it was the right thing to do. The sky was dull that morning, and Merlin changed direction; away from the rainclouds and back towards the skies above his former home.

The closer he got, the louder another voice grew inside his head. An old voice, one of great danger but also of great care.

“Be careful, young Warlock. If you can not contain your emotions in this state, you will remain in that body permanently.”

Merlin crowed, loudly and repeatedly to block out the voices of those connected to him, as he swooped downwards, landing on the crooked branch of a tall tree that overlooked the castle courtyard from a distance.

There was a gathering, a meeting of sorts. Even in this form he couldn’t hear nor see what was happening. He flitted from branch to branch, growing ever closer, but it was no use. Instead, he focused his mind on his magic. Any spell was harder to conjure without verbalisation, let alone when a person was projected into another form. This was a darker magic than Merlin was used to, but he had to be able to see.

He reached into that part of his soul that felt the pain of his rejection. The pain of a father that left when he was young, the pain of losing the only girl he’d ever had a chance with, the pain of being rejected for who he was.

The pain of being pushed away by his best friend, his own destiny.

The agony tore through him as he reached to his mind in order to sustain this magic, whilst also mentally incantating the spell to extend his vision. It was only typical that the first person he saw, after reining in his control, was Arthur. But something was wrong— his gaze, it had never looked so distant.

What was he…

Merlin refocused his vision and followed Arthur’s line of sight.

No.

Merlin crowed loudly, as though to try and steady himself. They hadn’t… they wouldn’t…

And then he felt it. The same magical connection he had always had with Gaius just fizzled away as though it were never there at all, leaving nothing but an emptiness in its place. An emptiness where a part of Merlin’s heart once was.

He screamed out, both physically and mentally. And then there was pain. It came in through his head first, and then his ears began to ring. Words and magic and absolute  _ agony _ , ripping him limb from limb until finally, a hand reached into the very flesh of his chest.

“Merlin!”

Merlin jolted forwards, panting and sweating, into Morgana’s open arms.

“Morgana! Gaius, they’ve— they’ve k— Gods, I can’t even say it.”

“You don’t need to. I saw,” Morgana answered. She pulled him closer and wound her arms around him, surrounding him with her warmth until he stopped shivering. 

“How?”

“I latched onto your mind for protection. Just incase,” said Morgana, patting his hair and swaying him slightly. 

“Yes, I know that. I could feel it. How did you bring me back?” Merlin asked then, suddenly aware of how damp Morgana’s hand was. 

Morgana cleared her throat and released Merlin from her grip. Her hand was red with fresh blood and her eyes still glistened with a hint of gold.

“Morgana?” Merlin asked, lifting himself forwards onto his knees and resting his hands on her shoulders. They had been running all night, and were beyond exhaustion. Someone so unpracticed at magic shouldn’t have been able to pull him free. He looked again at her hand, and then, he pulled at the collar of his shirt, discovering a hand-shaped scar over his chest. “What did you do?”

She shook her head and began to shiver and panic.

“I didn’t mean to. I’m not sure how I knew. I just knew I had to bring you back. I had to reach into your chest a-and I had to grasp your soul. I’m sorry, but I had to keep you alive. We’re all we have left, and I couldn’t face this alone, not now.”

Merlin leapt forwards, taking her into his embrace and holding her there. What Morgana had used was incredibly old magic. Old, dark magic. Merlin shushed her fears away and held her close. Morgana was strong and untamed.

As he looked across the ground, he took in the body of a crow with a bloody hole in its chest, its eyes looking directly into his. Cold, dead eyes. He knew then that Morgana would have to be watched. There was a darkness in her. A darkness that apparently gave her the power to take life. But at what price?

“We have to keep moving,” Merlin whispered.

“Yes. We need to get far away from here,” Morgana said.

So, they continued on; pushing through thick forest, where the winding paths were shaded by the tall trees, It was eerie and quiet, and all Merlin could think about was Gaius, and the way he had looked at Arthur in his final moments. 

This was nothing less than a betrayal. Not only had Gaius been much like a father to Merlin, but Arthur and Morgana had grown up under Gaius’ care. Merlin knew how much the physician cared for them. He had always treated them as if they were his own.

There was no reasoning with it, and there was no excuses. Arthur had let Gaius die, and for that he had to pay, one way or another. Merlin had to fix Camelot’s mess. It was his destiny, and if that meant he had to do it without Arthur’s support, then that was the way it had to be.

They walked all through day, using their magic to shield them from being seen by travelers, bandits, and knights alike. It was by no means an easy journey, what with having no food and very sparse access to water. Merlin barely had enough magic left inside of him to purify the water from the stream they had found, and Morgana was in a similar state of exhaustion come nightfall.

“We have to set up camp somewhere,” Morgana suggested.

Merlin nodded. “Yes. There’s bound to be a clearing somewhere nearby. Listen, we have to find food in the morning and then push on. We can’t stop until we get somewhere safe. There are druid camps just over the border that can offer us safety and keep us out of reach for now.” 

Merlin reached out for Morgana’s hand and they helped each other through the thick shrubbery. Sure enough, they found a small clearing where a protruding tree root provided enough shelter for them to sleep beneath.

“Merlin?” Morgana asked as she climbed into the little opening.

Merlin looked across at her from where he was sat against the tree trunk.

“Thank you. You know, for helping me through this. I would ever have guessed that you had magic, but I am happy that I’m not alone in this. We have each other, and that is enough, okay?” She shuffled along, and Merlin climbed into the space beside her where they lay back to back.

Merlin wanted it to be enough, he really did. He knew he was lucky to have gotten away with his life, let alone in the company of a friend; but he still ached with the hurt of betrayal deep down.

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Sire? Please, I’d rather not do this again.”

Leon knocked aggressively on Arthur’s door as Arthur, again, sat on his bed and stared at his window. He needed a way out, or at the very least a way to make his father see reason. Following Gaius’ death, Aredian was likely to leave at some point soon; meaning Arthur could try and make his father see what had been done.

Though, in the back of his mind, Arthur feared that the events that had passed had less to do with Aredian’s influence and more to do with his father’s fear of magic. Arthur had been raised to believe that magic was the worst of all evils, and that it should never be underestimated. But how bad could magic be? As far as Arthur was aware, Merlin and Morgana had never done anything evil at all. Surely it isn’t the magic itself, but rather the person who yields it who is to blame for traitorous acts. 

“Arthur, please.” Leon sighed.

“It’s already open, Leon,” Arthur answered, his voice weaker than he’d like to admit. 

He didn’t lift his head to watch Leon walk into the room. Instead, he sat still, looking away from the window and to the ground instead. He didn’t deserve the duty of leading these men. Not if he couldn’t stop the unjust deaths of those he cared so dearly about.

Leon sat beside him on the bed, their shoulders touching. 

“You know, Aredian would have stopped at nothing to make sure that somebody would be made to suffer. He never leaves a job without seeing an execution made by his own wishes.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Arthur asked, looking up to see his best knight’s sunken, red-rimmed eyes looking back at him. 

“No, Arthur. It isn’t. They’re holding a council meeting soon, and I have pleaded with the king for your involvement. Arthur, if anyone can do anything then it has to be you. You are Uther’s son—”

“Yes, but he won’t listen!” Arthur shouted, taken aback by his own aggression.

“Maybe not, but at least you will have tried. Arthur, Aredian isn’t leaving. I saw Uther arranging for his belongings to be moved to a better room. Something isn’t right.”

Leon looked at him, and it was a plea. None of this was right at all. There had to be a reason as to why Aredian wasn’t leaving, and there was only one way of finding out what that reason was.

“When did you say this meeting was?”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you, everyone, for your attendance at such an urgent meeting.” Uther didn’t sound even the least bit thankful. His face looked pale, thin, and haunted with stress. “Gaius was a good friend to us all, which provides another example of the use of magic to try and get close to the throne.”

There were quiet murmurs but no one dared speak clearly. 

“We must track down Morgana.”

“Why?” Arthur asked before his brain could catch up.

“Why?” Uther repeated with a snort. “Because I will  _ not _ have my ward running loose in the kingdom with filthy magic at her fingertips!”

“So you’re going to catch her just to kill her?” Arthur asked, his tone irate and impatient. 

“No, dear boy,” Aredian interrupted from his position at Uther’s right side. “There is a… procedure which may or may not be able to remove the girl’s magic. First, however, she must be found.”

“Yes, and to do so, we must locate the boy, Merlin.”

“Would it not be easier just to find the Lady Morgana, Sire?” spoke Sir Kay. “My apologies for speaking up, but surely the Lady has a face that more people are likely to notice. She is your ward after all.”

“Yes, well done for noticing,” snarled Uther, and Arthur scowled at his father’s lack of emotion.

“Though the witch has a more recognisable face,” began Aredian, his eyes moving over the faces at the table until they finally settled on Arthur’s. “The boy is easier to track using… other means.”

“Like what?” Arthur answered, his gaze unwavering.

“We shall lure him out of hiding by cutting off the very things that keep him grounded on this land.” Aredian smiled.

“Sir Leon, you will lead a handful of your best knights to Ealdor— no more than five. Wait until nightfall and find his mother.”

“His mother?” Leon asked, ridicule twisting his face.

“How does this affect Hunith?” Arthur piped up, his eyes moving to his Father.

“She sent that repulsive young man here, Arthur. And she will pay the price. She will be killed on sight; Aredian has assured me that the boy will be able to feel his mother’s death due to their genetic bond.”

“This is madness!” Arthur stood, pointing a finger at his father. “This is absolute madness. You are killing people just for the sake of killing them! Gaius was not practicing sorcery, and neither is Hunith!” Arthur then moved his finger to Aredian. “Him! He is somehow influencing you into making these immoral decisions! I wouldn’t be surprised if  _ he _ was a sorcerer the way—”

“ENOUGH!” Uther yelled, standing up so fast that his chair scraped across the floor with an unearthly sound. “You will go to your room before you say something that will land you in the dungeons!”

Arthur kicked his own chair back out of the way and stormed out of the room. They were going to go after Hunith, and if Merlin’s brain worked like Arthur’s then Merlin would likely be in Ealdor too.

Arthur had to get there first, and he had to go as soon as possible. 

He spent best part of the afternoon pacing his room, before requesting a meeting with his father. He told his father that he was going on a hunt to clear his head, and that finding out about Morgana and Merlin had been too much for him all at once. Uther understood, and allowed Arthur to take a horse, a bow and arrow and his trusty sword. 

What Uther didn’t know, was that Arthur had packed up enough water, bread and meat for more than just himself; and once Arthur took his leave, there would be no returning to Camelot without his friends' safety guaranteed. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin lay awake under the raised root of the tree. His coat provided little shelter for his and Morgana’s legs against the rain; but it was all he could do. He focused on the steady inhale and exhale of Morgana’s sleeping state and he tried, for her sake, to keep himself grounded.

He wanted to believe that Uther wasn’t in his right mind. Killing the only experienced physician in Camelot was surely a poor and ill-thought-out move. As well as that, Gaius had been friends with Uther for a very long time. They were that close, in fact, that Uther had allowed Gaius to live after the purge, despite Gaius having practiced sorcery in the past. There had been a trust between them, a trust that Uther had thrown away as though it had meant nothing at all.

And then there was Arthur. Gaius had often told Merlin that he loved Arthur and Morgana as though they were his own; that he had treated all of Arthur's bumps and bruises and a child and that Morgana used to always pick herbs for him while she was out picking flowers with her maids. They probably meant just as much to Gaius as Merlin did, so for Arthur to just stand and watch…

It was the ultimate betrayal.

Merlin flattened his palms into his eyes and forced himself to hold his tears. It wouldn’t do to let his emotions take over at the minute. Not when they were vulnerable.

“M-Merlin,” Morgana stuttered next to him, and he rolled over, placing a gentle hand on her arm. He and Gaius had been trying to treat her nightmares for some time now, and it was inevitable that she would be having them after everything that had happened.

“Shhh” hushed Merlin, moving his hand up and down her arm in a slow and comforting manner. The way his own mother used to do for him.

“Merlin, she’s c-coming. She’s going to f-find us.” Morgana panicked in her sleep, her body starting to shake and jitter. Who was she talking about?

“Morgana, it’s okay. I put up protection charms, no one can see—”

“She has magic!” Morgana shouted then, her eyes darting open and illuminating the night with gold. Then, there were noises from nearby. Footsteps.

Merlin could sense a very strong magic.

He slowly shuffled out from under their makeshift shelter and rose, very carefully, to his feet; only now realising how weak he truly felt. He focused his mind. He had managed magic plenty of times without words before. He let down the barriers in his mind and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to project into the area around them. It filtered through the trees, northwards first and then around and around until- _there._

A figure in a dark blue cloak was approaching them, and whoever they were, they were too close now for Merlin and Morgana to try and escape.

The figure paused and looked in the direction of Merlin’s projection.

“I see you,” she whispered, and Merlin gasped; his eyes snapping open.

“What is it?” Morgana panicked, as she rose to her feet.

“Sh-she’s almost here!” Merlin replied, the spell had knocked him dizzy paired with his current state of malnutrition and he looked around, not remembering in which direction he had seen their seeker.

“Who is she, Merlin?”

“She had a hood so I didn’t see her face, but you were right, Morgana; she has magic. I could feel it.”

“Which means you have magic too,” said a cool voice, and Merlin turned to his left, finding the same hooded figure he’d seen just moments before.

He would have fought, but he just didn’t have the energy. Instead he took a step forward, putting himself between Morgana and the stranger.

“Please, this is King Uther’s ward. We were charged with death for being born with magic; if you have any magic at all you’ll understand our search for safety,” Merlin pleaded, looking at the darkness under the hood of his new acquaintance.

“Please, you could help us. I am the Lady Morgana.” Morgana nodded from Merlin’s rear, the quiver in her voice betraying her fear.

“Hmm,” the strange woman took a step forward, then lifted her arms to her hood. She pulled down the night-blue hood to reveal long golden curls, and a dark, piercing glare. “I am aware of who you are, my lady. I do believe we have already met. I was actually on my way to Camelot to see you.”

Morgana moved to Merlin’s side. “I don’t recall having met you before now. Might I ask your name?” she asked.

“You might,” the blonde witch replied. “I am Morgause.”

Merlin hadn’t heard the name before, but one look at Morgana told him that he was the only one.

“Morgause.. Where have I—”

“I am Morgause, warrior, sorceress and High Priestess of the Old Religion,” Morgause interrupted, stepping forwards and offering Morgana her hand, which Morgana took in her own. Merlin’s mind shook at the mention of the old religion. It wasn’t often that anything good came from this type of old magic.

Just as he made to speak, however, Morgana and Morgause’s hands began to glow a golden colour.

“What’s happening?” Morgana asked.

“It’s a magical bond. It happens when— but that’s not possible.” Merlin couldn’t believe it. The way their hands were tied and the way the magic moved around them like vines… he’d only ever read about it in books on familial magic.

“I should have introduced myself properly, but I had to be sure.” Morgause smiled before releasing Morgana’s hand. “I am Morgause, daughter of Vivienne and Gorlois.”

 

* * *

 

Morgana and Merlin talked with Morgause until sunrise, learning of her parentage and her past, and coming to terms with her relation to Morgana. Morgause agreed with them that they had to make a plan in order for Morgana to be able to remain in Camelot, but there was something about the way she spoke that unsettled Merlin. Morgause hadn’t actually been interested in Merlin at all, but she had been _very_ interested in Uther, Arthur, and Camelot.

Merlin knew just as well as anyone that Uther and Arthur weren’t to be trusted at the minute, but there was a deep-seated hatred in the way Morgause looked when she talked of the Pendragon family, and Merlin guessed that nothing good could come of it.

“So, you were Arthur’s servant?” Morgause asked conversationally as she used her magic to carve into a fallen tree branch.

“They were friends,” Morgana answered before Merlin had the chance to speak.

“Friends? Not many people can say they get to be friends with the Prince of Camelot.” Morgause stopped using her magic and narrowed her eyes at Merlin. “Why would he choose a servant, of all people?” she asked.

“I guess it was because I wasn’t afraid to call him a prat,” Merlin laughed; but it was a dead laugh. All the times he and Arthur had laughed with one another and looked out for one another…  And now Arthur had turned him away. He had watched as Gaius was murdered in front of an entire community.

“It was because you were loyal,” Morgana said, sadly.

“Or perhaps,” Morgause began, “it was because he knew of your magic all along.”

“What?” replied Merlin and Morgana simultaneously.

“Mmm…  Perhaps he kept you close in order to build a bond. Perhaps he sought to use your own magic against you.”

“No, Arthur wouldn’t ever—” Merlin began, but he stopped at the betrayed look in Morgana’s eyes.

“Merlin, you said it yourself; he stood by and watched as Uther turned mad, and he has never done a thing to help us, or to help Gaius.”

Merlin watched as Morgana wiped at her tears, and as Morgause looked between them with what looked like a poor attempt at pity.

“It sounds to me as though the prince has used you, Merlin. Perhaps it’s time to plan and exact our revenge.”

Merlin gulped and shook his head, but it didn’t matter. Neither Morgause or Morgana were looking in his direction anyway. Surely, Arthur would never have pulled Merlin close for that reason. There had always been a sort of bond between them, and Merlin had been certain that they were a team. He would have died for Arthur; and a part of him liked to believe Arthur would have done the same.

But then he had always been terrible at lying, hadn’t he? Even Arthur had said so. Several times. So, maybe it wasn’t such a far-fetched idea. Looking back, there were plenty times where Merlin hadn’t been careful. Of course, Arthur could very well have seen; but then why had he asked why Merlin never told him?

Merlin wanted to believe that Morgause was nothing more than someone that was here to stir up trouble, but a part of him was suffering at the hands of Arthur’s betrayal too.

He didn’t know what to believe.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur had been using the cover of night to track Merlin and Morgana. He had been following a set of tracks to start with, but soon enough they disappeared. Merlin and Morgana had magic, after all; of course they had covered their tracks. It seemed as though the more Arthur searched, the less he found. He had followed the stream, had narrowly avoided a group of bandits, and he was now amongst forestry so thick that he and Aster were struggling to move any further.

He had chosen Aster with a strategy in mind. Aster was Merlin’s Bay mare, and she was unquestionably one of the most beautiful horses in Camelot’s stables. Merlin looked after her more than anyone else did for their own horses, and she was incredibly well-behaved for him. Before every journey, Arthur would watch Merlin and Aster from a distance, admiring how Merlin spoke to her and nurtured her. 

But now, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were actually talking to each other; being able to talk to animals didn’t sound so ridiculous anymore.

As they tried to maneuver through the shrubbery surrounding them, Arthur climbed down from Aster’s back and took her reins in hand, leading her carefully through the greenery. The moon filtered through the trees above them, illuminating Aster’s rich brown coat with a pale glow. Her presence alone made Arthur feel a little better because it was like having a piece of Merlin with him. He paused every now and again to stroke her head, or behind the ear where he knew Merlin always did it, and he encouraged her with words of comfort along their endless trek, until the forest became more spaced out.

Arthur dreaded telling Merlin about Gaius, and he prayed that he might get to Ealdor before anyone found Merlin, Morgana, and Hunith there. He knew there would be no way to explain what had happened, and that there was certainly no way to justify what Uther had done. He just had to hope that Merlin would be able to see past what had happened enough to help Arthur in deciding what the next steps were. Surely, between the two of them and Morgana, they’d be able to dig Uther out of the downward spiral he was currently on. Even if it meant using magic.

Arthur led Aster by foot, and it wasn’t until the horse stopped in her tracks, that Arthur realised that there was a sound; one that was unlike anything he had heard in the woodland at night. This sound was… human.

Arthur’s hand found his sword, but something in the back of his mind told him not to draw it. He didn’t necessarily feel he was in danger; he felt more wary than anything else. The only places where whispering like that could be heard were druid camps, and Arthur knew these sounds well. He had struck down enough druid camps in his time.

He didn’t move forward, and he didn’t turn around. Instead, he waited; and sure enough, an elderly lady in a dark green cloak emerged from an opening in the trees ahead. 

“Arthur Pendragon,” she whispered, and Arthur almost leapt out of his skin because although she was maybe one hundred yards away, it was as though she whispered the words right in his ear. He nodded, knowing she would see.

“We know you mean no harm, but we ask that you tell us your business before you pass. There are those here who do not see you as a friendly face.”

He nodded again whilst trying to find the words in his head. Of course they didn’t like him, his own father was set on butchering their kind. 

“I am looking for the Lady Morgana. She was charged with treason by my father but she escaped,” Arthur said.

“Another made to face their death because of being no more than themselves. Why do you wish to seek the Lady Morgana? Do you plan to return her to Camelot?” The druid lady asked, and though her voice was mostly even; something in her tone bore an unpleasant impatience.

“No— please, you misunderstand. Morgana is like a sister to me, and I would die myself before I would let any harm come to her. I don’t know where she is or where she will be, but I need to find her. My father has fallen victim to his own madness and who knows when his men will be on a mission to Ealdor to kill more innocent people and—”

“Ealdor?” the druid asked, catching Arthur off guard.

“Yes. My servant, Merlin, was also charged with treason and I figured that he’d go to Ealdor, but my father intends to send his men there to kill his mother in an attempt to get him to strike back. Please, you have to help me save them all, because I don’t know how.”

There was a pause and Arthur could suddenly feel his heart hammering in his chest. It was all very, very real. The knights would reach Ealdor and slaughter Hunith in her own bed. Even the thought of it was enough to knock him sick. He looked at the druid lady for what felt like an eternity before she raised a hand towards him.

“It’s worse than I imagined, then. You must come with me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur immediately stepped forward, knowing somewhere deep within himself that he would not come to harm here. He approached the opening in the forest to find that the lady had gone, and that there was a white pebble path winding through the trees ahead. Aster by his side, he followed the path onward. 

Did the druids know what had happened in Camelot? Arthur couldn’t quite imagine that word would have travelled so fast; and he didn’t fully understand why the druids would be so concerned about it. It also intrigued him that the druid lady’s interest seemed to respond most to the talk of Ealdor. 

Aster’s body started to relax more as they turned into a clearing where tents were set up, connected by homemade decorations of string and coloured fabric. It was a peaceful, little community and yet it was bustling with life. 

“May I?” a young boy asked Arthur, signalling to Aster with his hands. Arthur would recognise a stable boy uniform anywhere. 

“Um, yes of course. Thanks, I guess,” replied Arthur awkwardly, handing the reins to the young boy who escorted Aster around to a makeshift stable. It was clear to Arthur that this was not a permanent living space for the druids. Most druid families moved around a lot after the Purge. 

Arthur watched as the boy stroked Aster’s dark mane and he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of fondness for the boy. Merlin always petted Aster’s mane like that too. He looked around to the largest tent ahead, and he could see the druid lady beckoning him over. He followed without delay, all thoughts of other current events leaving his mind to be replaced by curiosity. 

Everything became very quiet as he approached the tent. The whispering sounds had almost become complete background noise so it was unsettling when they became even quieter; but Arthur wasn’t deterred. On the contrary, he felt a strange pull to the tent. Almost as though he was supposed to be here.

“Welcome, King Arthur,” the druid lady spoke aloud from the opening as she pulled down her hood, revealing a pale, wrinkled face and set of beautiful, piercing green eyes. 

“Oh, er thank you but I’m not quite king yet; maybe one day,” Arthur said, awkwardly. 

As he pushed inside the tent, he was greeted by a group of druids sat in a semicircle on the floor, and at the centre of them all stood a large tree stump; on top of which lay a small crystal no bigger than the palm of Arthur’s hand. 

“It was prophesied that you would come here today, Arthur Pendragon. My name is Olwen, and we are most pleased to be of your assistance today. It was no secret that Uther Pendragon would be the cause of this revolution, but we did not expect it all to come about at the hands of Aredian. And we most certainly did not expect the great Emrys to be put to his death.”

Arthur stared at Olwen with a feeling of total loss. He honestly had no idea about any revolution or of anyone named Emrys. He had half a mind that this Olwen was probably just a bit senile in her old age, but a part of him was too scared to think it too loudly in case she heard it in his mind.

“Arthur, I know that you doubt what we have to say but the crystal will show you. You were meant to come here today; and you are a big part in what is to come.” 

Arthur stood by as Olwen carefully used her sleeve to pick up the rough-looking crystal, and without even realising he was doing so, he held is palm upright ready to receive it. 

“The crystal will show you everything. Look carefully, as it will only show you once.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin was exhausted. Despite Morgause having led him and Morgana to her own camp a few hours’ travel away and feeding him, he just felt weaker than he had ever felt before. He didn’t want to believe the things she had said about Morgana’s true parentage but Morgause had shown them through the powers of her own magic. It was an honesty incantation that even the most powerful of sorcerers would not be able to manipulate. Not only was Merlin concerned about that, he also had Arthur to worry about. Arthur who was supposed to rule Camelot with Merlin by his side; and together they would shape a Camelot that would be remembered for centuries to come.

But how could he even look Arthur in the eye? Arthur didn’t step in when Merlin was first accused of treason, despite the fact that Merlin had done it to save Gaius’ life. But Arthur didn’t care for Gaius did he? He couldn’t, not when he stood by and watched whilst Gaius was murdered. Arthur even had the audacity to come to Merlin and Morgana’s cell and demand explanations when he probably knew there and then that Gaius was going to be killed. 

It was all sickening, and as much as Merlin did not want to believe it; he was beginning to think that perhaps Morgause wasn’t entirely wrong. Either way, he couldn’t stick around and hear any more. Instead he had opted to take a walk through the trees, practicing the simpler spells that took him back to when he was younger; such as carving patterns in tree bark and creating a gentle breeze to sway the branches above his head. 

He wanted to believe that Arthur was above all of this, that he was above the misunderstanding of magic and the inequality for those of a certain background. He wanted to believe that Arthur would have been his future, which was to spend their destinies side by side. Hell, he was stupid enough to have believed that already. Above all, though, he wanted to believe that Prince Arthur of Camelot was the same pompous prat that had him put in the stocks back on day one, and the same dollophead that, over time, grew fond of Merlin. Above all, Merlin wanted to believe that there was something between them. If that had been the case; whatever it was, was surely gone now.

As hard as Merlin tried to keep his mind off everything that was going on, his thoughts always led him back to his predicament. There were no peaceful ways he could think of to go about this situation if any changes were to be made in Camelot. He couldn’t help but get annoyed, and as he barged unceremoniously through the forest, he realised that he had gone from simple magic to killing the plants closest to him, just by standing near. He stopped abruptly and looked back at the path of grey lifelessness that he had left behind him. How had he even managed to do that?

Amongst the dead earth, however, there was a tree. It had a darker coloured bark than the others and the leaves of this tree were a deep red, in sharp contrast to those around it which had been green before Merlin walked by. It wasn’t the colour that first caught his attention, however. It was because this tree was alive, and not only could he see that, he could feel it in his bones. He stood back and observed the tree; it was incredibly large, in both height and width, and its roots grew out of the ground in giant arms that made the tree look other-wordly. One thing was certain; this tree undeniably had power of a magical kind.

Merlin really wanted to investigate, but he was also caught up in his own dreadful thoughts. He knew that the day would come where he would have to tell Arthur about his magic, but every time he imagined the worst case scenario; it was Camelot’s future and other magical folk he was concerned about. Now though, he didn’t understand why Arthur’s betrayals were the most painful part of it all. Arthur was all he thought about and sometimes, a very small part of him wanted to suggest exactly why Arthur was all he thought about, but he always pushed himself to ignore that idea. It was utterly ridiculous, after all; especially now that Arthur had severed any chance of ever even being friends with Merlin again. All he had left to do now was fight for magic, and that was what he would do. He just had to decide whether to do it on Morgause’s terms. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” Merlin whispered as he moved forwards towards the tree. There was a warm aura that pulled him in with welcome; and when he placed his palms against the tree bark, golden light shot from his fingertips. He could feel every pulse of his blood as it throbbed through his body, filling him up from his soul.

The tree was trying to restore him.

“Well, you’re an incredible thing, aren’t you?” praised Merlin as he dug his nails into the tree. He tried with all he had to get closer but it just wasn’t enough. The energy from the tree was taking him over and he just needed  _ more _ . He didn't care that his skin felt like it was starting to burn because he knew that this tree was helping him in its own way, and he could feel its energy and life taking over his body.

He pushed himself closer still. Caught up in the magic of otherworldly life, foreign words rolled off his tongue like a whisper, and he closed his eyes and felt himself move.

He only opened his eyes once after that, seeing roots wrapped gently around his legs and arms and tall stretches of bark surrounding him; but it was peaceful and warm and he was thankful.

Just before he closed his eyes he caught the glow of twinkling golden lights above him.

 

* * *

 

Merlin watched from somewhere above as his Mother slept. He wasn’t sure how he was here but that didn’t matter at all. What mattered was that she lay in peace with a smile on her face, blissfully unaware that her only son had been sentenced to death. None of that seemed to matter in the quiet of Ealdor.

There had been plenty of times that Merlin just wished he could go back to how things were. Of course, he still wasn’t free to use his magic, but Eadlor was a tiny village, and that meant less people to hide from. He also had Will; but that was then. Will had gotten himself killed for a prince who he hadn’t even liked and who stood by and did nothing whilst Merlin was locked away in the lead up to his execution.

Will had been right.

There was a surge of power, unlike anything Merlin had ever felt. It spread from his chest and outwards, expelling static from his fingers and toes but still, he watched his Mother. He tried to ignore the magic stealing away inside of him, choosing to remain in the moment. It didn’t matter how he was there, it just mattered that he was.

He stayed and watched for a long time, analysing everything from the way Hunith’s hair stuck to her cheek when she rolled over and how her fingers would twitch while she was dreaming. It was fine, until he heard the unmistakable brush of the door to what was once his home. He had snuck into the house many a time after being out late with Will, and that door creaked unless you were very, very careful.

Merlin tried to look, but his eyes were somehow fixed on his mother only. He tried and tried and he could hear his brain telling his body to move; but his body wasn’t there, was it? He tried again, regardless of how pointless he knew it was. He could hear whispering and something horrendous inside of him recognised the voices.

Then, just like with Gaius, all he could do was watch as a man in Pendragon red stepped to the side of Hunith’s bed and plunged a dagger through the centre of her chest.

Her eyes didn’t open, her body didn’t flinch. The only thing Merlin heard was her sharp intake of breath, followed by the unending screaming inside of his own mind. Uther Pendragon was out to kill everyone who Merlin ever loved.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my God, Merlin! Your fa—”

“Morgana, stop. Merlin, what has happened?”

Merlin had left the tree, unaware of the the time or the day. All he had known was his own darkness. He had watched his mother and Gaius dying again and again inside his head too many times; and the tree assisted in containing his power and stopping it from destroying everything in sight. 

He should have felt bad for what he did but he couldn’t feel anything at all other that hatred.

The only thing left was to rid the world of Uther Pendragon and Aredian the witchfinder. 

“He has killed my mother,” he said, but his voice sounded separate from himself and different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Oh, Merlin. You were gone a good couple of days but surely you didn’t go to Eadlor?” Morgana asked, rushing up from the tree trunk on which she sat to place her arms around Merlin.

He couldn’t help but flinch.

“I didn’t go to Eadlor. I just saw it happen,” Merlin replied. 

He looked at Morgause then, who was watching him with interested eyes and a look of intrigue.

“Here, we got clothes for you to change into. I knew you’d come back, Merlin. Morgause has been helping with my magic and I have been able to channel it a lot better now. I think I almost have the strength to take Uther on, but there’s no doubt that you and Morgause do. I can sense your magic so much more now than before.”

Morgana handed Merlin a pale red tunic and plain pair of trousers. She seemed taken aback when he merely blinked and the clothes were now on his body.

“Wherever Merlin went, it would seem that it has given him a power boost. You’re a lot stronger now than you were before,” said Morgause, who approached him slowly, stopping only to look unpleasantly at his blue neckerchief.

All of a sudden, Merlin found himself feeling very protective of the tree. How had they not noticed where he was? Had the tree not been easy to detect for them? 

“Yeah, I just came by some water and had a bit of rest.” 

He and Morgause both looked at each other for a few moments, but Merlin wasn’t giving anything away. Least of all to someone who had claimed to be related to Morgana and just so happened to show up when everything went wrong.

He didn’t trust anyone.

He couldn’t.

Instead of dwelling on the knowledge of his tree, he focused his anger back onto planning their revenge. He no longer had an older, wiser friend and he no longer had a mother. The one person who he once would have turned to was now part of the problem. 

But the tree had helped him think about his priorities, and though his destiny was to create a better Camelot by Arthur’s side; he knew now that he had the power to do it alone. It was time to launch an attack on Camelot, and if that meant Arthur had to die for the sake of magickind, then that was how it would have to be. 

They planned their movements. To round up all magic folk in Camelot and close to its borders, and together they would fight. An army of knights was nothing in comparison to an army of sorcerers and druids.

Then Merlin waited until Morgana and Morgause were asleep before taking the long walk back to his tree.

This time, he didn’t have to fight his way inside, because the roots had opened up and there stood the last person he wanted to see.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur startled, jumping to his feet and reaching for his sword. He looked around to try and make sense of where he was, but the trees were thick here and there wasn’t enough light to see. He forced his eyes shut and searched his brain for an answer, but nothing came to him. Not at first.

But then, as he brought a hand up to his head and caught the smell of Aster’s hair on his sleeve, images began to flow through his mind. His birth, which brought both the celebration of new life and the bitter pain of death; leading up to the purge, the bloodshed and the utter fear. Then, his life being saved by Merlin time and time again, but how? Also, a familiar voice talking of destinies and coins and—

“Two sides of the same coin,” Arthur spoke, his eyes opening and the images suddenly realigned. Olwen had shown him everything, about Merlin’s sacrifices for Arthur and for Camelot. She had shown him the kind of kingdom Camelot could be if he and Merlin were to stand by each other. She had shown him Merlin’s unbeatable power and his future, god-like position within the magic community. There was no mention of anyone else other than he and Merlin, which had to mean only one thing. He had to get Merlin back.

He glanced around at his surroundings. Olwen had said something about following his heart; and well, his heart would only ever lead him to one place, no matter how much he tried to think of it differently.

“There.” he whispered to himself as he found a curved carving in the base of a tree trunk; then another one just the same, a few trees along. Had Merlin or Morgana left him a trail? Arthur didn’t even hesitate, he just ran. In the back of his mind, he noticed how quiet everything seemed, and he noticed the static that seemed to pulse through his fingertips the closer he got to wherever he was heading; but he chose to ignore it. He just had to know Merlin was alive and safe. 

Thus far, he had learned that he was born of magic. That was why Uther hated it so much. It had killed Ygraine, therefore killing a part of him. Arthur knew that Uther must have resented him for it for a while, but Arthur was more concerned about the way Uther had treated the situation. He had been the one to ask Nimueh for a child, had he not? So, why then would he take out his anger on magic as a whole?

Arthur had also learned that he was destined to be the ‘Once and Future King’, the one who was supposedly going to go down in history as the best king any kingdom had ever seen. Again, though, that wasn’t his biggest worry. He had a lot more to think about before he’d ever get to be king. 

Destiny.

That is what was on his mind. Because destiny had brought Merlin to him, and had kept them with each other. Merlin had obviously known this whole time about all of this; and he had chosen to keep Arthur in the dark. In hindsight it probably wasn’t such a bad idea. But what Arthur couldn’t help but question, was at what point during his time with Merlin had his feelings turned from being a prophesied companionship, to feelings of attachment, need and… and... 

Arthur stopped, then. Because even though he knew, and had known for some time, he had never allowed himself to admit it. He couldn’t, because it would hurt too much.

How was anyone ever supposed to compare to Merlin? Merlin who was kind, caring, brave, loving; and all with a little helping of silliness to give him that quirkiness that Arthur loves so much.

There it was again. Love.

Arthur laughed, or at least he thought that was what he did until it came out a half-stifled sob. He leaned against a tree trunk and allowed his feelings to take him. Giddy with the feeling of love, yet haunted by the idea that Merlin was out here somewhere potentially fighting for his life while his family were being killed off by Arthur’s own father. He cried.

He cried, rather pathetically, into his armour and his sleeves, and onto the tree which he all of a sudden seemed to realise was very, very alive.

He should have jumped, more out of instinct than anything else, but he just placed a palm on the tree and felt the power seep into his own fingertips. This tree was communicating with him. It could feel him.

“Please,” he begged, putting his sword back into its holster and pushing his other hand into the tree. “I need to find him. I need to find Merlin.” 

And just like that, the tree bark seemed to open up and it was almost as though Arthur was being absorbed, but in a way that he didn’t really seem to mind. In fact, it was almost as though the tree was there purely to help him, because just as he had the chance to look around at the outstretched roots, winding vines and glowing lights around him, the voice he had been so desperate to hear came from behind.

“Leave.”

Arthur spun as fast as he could at the sound of Merlin’s raw, dark voice. Only to see that he looked mostly the same, yet so completely different. He was thin, gaunt even; and his skin was so pale and looked almost translucent. The most unnerving thing, however, were Merlin’s eyes. His pupils were huge, animalistic; and the redness around his eyes gave him a striking resemblance to something not human at all.

“What? Merlin, what has happened to you?” Arthur asked, taking a step forwards only to be stopped by an invisible force.

“Leave, before I kill you,” said Merlin, and there was no doubt in his tone. Arthur recoiled, taking the words like a hard hit to the face. He needed Merlin, and surely Merlin needed him too.

“Merlin, please. I came here to bring you back! Stop being such an idiot and—”

“This is not the time for jokes!” Merlin shouted, and with a twitch of his hand, an invisible force pinned Arthur’s arms to his sides and brought him to his knees. “Why couldn’t you have just left?!” Merlin yelled, and darkness in his voice, the pain and the sorrow; it was unbearable to hear. “How do you expect me to stand here and listen to you after you stood by and watched as Gaius was murdered?!” 

The force surrounding Arthur became tighter, almost crushing him.

“Merlin—” he gasped, barely finding enough air to breathe.

“No! You don’t get to try and reason with me! Not after going after everyone I love. Not after sitting back and doing nothing while your father tried to kill me, to kill his own ward!” 

That was just it, wasn’t it? As far as Merlin was concerned, Arthur could have been anywhere. Arthur had indeed been in Camelot when Gaius was killed, and he said nothing to Merlin that would have implied he was on Merlin’s side. They hadn’t communicated more than once before Merlin escaped, and Merlin had every right to be angry. Especially having to live in Camelot while Uther set out to try and slaughter all of those whom were involved with magic.

And Arthur never did anything. But how could he have known? 

“Merlin!” came Morgana’s voice; and even though his vision was starting to blur, there was no mistaking Morgana’s rage as she looked Arthur in the eye. 

“You!” she screamed, but Merlin held a hand out to her and she stopped.

“Leave him with me,” Merlin whispered, low and guttural. 

“Are you going to kill him?” came another voice. This one unfamiliar, belonging to a woman with white-blonde hair and a piercing gaze. It was him against three. 

“Just do it, Merlin. You have him trapped! Morgause was right, he’s the evil one!” Morgana shouted, though something about her tone hinted at a level of unsurety. This was Arthur’s chance. Morgana had always been like a sister to him, and it made sense that she would be the one to have split loyalties. But how would he get her to understand?

“Merlin, if you kill him then he is no longer the heir. It’s fair to take him from Uther, just as Uther took Gaius and Hunith from you. It is the perfect way to strike,”  Morgause urged, but the way she spoke was sly and persuasive.

“We said we’d send him away. We agreed that he wouldn’t die.” Merlin was still angry, but he was panicked, and it was all Arthur needed to realise there was hope. But then the bounds grew tighter and the pulsing of his own blood grew louder in his ears. He could barely see, and he could feel the crushing of his own bones followed by a series of shouts and cries.

What was happening? 

But somewhere deep down, he found the will to focus, and he could feel the magic of the tree surrounding him. He didn’t know how, but he used it to find Morgana and with the last bit of energy, he showed her everything he had seen. 

Then there was darkness, a terrifying scream and then quiet. 


	9. Chapter 9

“Just kill him!” Morgause hissed and Merlin knew through his magic that Arthur was close to death. It made sense to take Arthur from Uther. It would be justice. It would also be Merlin taking a life.

“We should hold him prisoner,” Merlin snarled, his rage still threatening to push him over an edge that he was rather afraid of seeing the other side of.

“Prisoner? After all he has done? You know Arthur Pendragon, and you know that he will escape if we don’t kill him now!” Morgause spat, and quicker than the wind itself, her arms were outstretched and striking a series of blows at Merlin’s hands; the hands that were controlling the magical bounds constricting Arthur’s body.

“What are you— Morgause stop that! You’ll kill him,  _ stop _ !” Merlin roared but it just wasn’t enough. He tried with all he had to take magic from the tree but for whatever reason, the tree was unresponsive to him. Morgause was taking control of him and strengthening the spell that would kill Arthur.

Arthur, son of Uther, his father who slaughtered every sorcerer who dared step foot in Camelot.

Arthur, son of Ygraine; his mother who consorted with a priestess of the old religion for Arthur to be born.

Arthur, son of magic.

Arthur, Merlin’s almost best friend.

“Stop,” Merlin whispered as something seemed to strike him from deep within. “Please.”

“Begging will get you nowhere. It is time for Prince Arthur to meet his end, and—”

“I SAID STOP!” Merlin screeched in a voice unfamiliar to his own ears; deep and chilling. A warmth spread within him, painfully rushing through his blood and body, and spilling like lava from his hands, striking Morgause, causing her to howl and shriek with pain.

“Merlin, she is my sister!” cried Morgana, who in the midst of all of his seething fury, Merlin had forgotten all about. “Please, you’ll kill her!”

“And he is your brother, and she will kill him!” Merlin spat, striking a blow close to Morgana as warning.

He almost missed the feeling of a wave of unrecognisable magic moving through the ground beneath him and towards Morgana. Almost. Only then, when Morgana’s eyes rolled backwards and she began to shake; did Merlin stop to actually pay attention.

Morgause was down, Arthur was unconscious and Morgana looked as though possessed by an evil spirit. 

He didn’t understand what was happening, but he could feel Morgana’s power growing at an alarming rate, fast and uncontrollable as her whole body began to violently writhe. 

Then her eyes regained focus, glowing with the gold of a thousand suns.

“Merlin!” Morgana cried, but Merlin felt the sudden and crippling pain just below his left shoulder blade.

“I won’t let you stand in my way.” sneered Morgause, and Merlin could do nothing but watch as his body fell to the root-covered ground and Morgause approached Arthur’s body.

And then there was silence. They would both die together, in this magical mystical tree.

There was somehow a stillness, despite the thrumming of magic in his ears.

And then, there was a figure, moving fast towards Morgause. An array of light, at the centre of which were a pair of golden eyes attached to a screaming face.

Morgana fell to the floor, hitting her head on a nearby rock. Morgause too fell to the floor, still and completely lifeless.

And there was Arthur, still amongst the roots of the tree; and it took everything he had, but Merlin clenched his eyes shut and reached out to him with his magic, putting what was left of his own life into Arthur in the hope that he would wake up.

At first, he wasn’t sure why he did it; Arthur had betrayed him, after all. But really, it was obvious why he did it. He did it for the same reason he had put up with Arthur’s nonsense all this time, for the same reason he continuously saved his life, for the same reason he did anything and everything Arthur asked.

And it had nothing at all to do with destiny.

And with that moment of tormenting realisation Merlin released his final bit of magic; with it, his final bit of life.

 


	10. Chapter 10

When Arthur opened his eyes, he awoke with renewed strength. He looked around, dazed and not completely aware of his surroundings at first. While he was being crushed by Merlin’s magic, he never had time to take in the tree he had begged and pleaded with before... 

How long had he been knocked out? 

He sat up too quick, making his vision grow dark and fuzzy. Where was Merlin? He looked around, seeing nothing that would even hint that Merlin had ever been here. Nothing other than Morgana’s body lay neatly beside a bundle of knotted roots. 

“Morgana,” Arthur whispered, hurrying to her body. She was unharmed mostly, apart from a shallow cut to her head. She was unconscious; a concussion no doubt. She must have been hurt at some point, but by who? Arthur picked her up, noticing the way the tree seemed to be releasing an unfriendly feeling. It didn’t take him long to figure out where Morgana had been sleeping, and he placed her body back under the tree roots. He then took off his jacket and placed it over her back for extra warmth. 

He then sat back, letting his mind open up and process everything that had happened. He and Merlin were destined to save Albion; to unite magic folk and reinstate them as legal and welcome citizens once more. He found Merlin at this magical tree with someone called Morgause. In the back of Arthur’s mind, he was sure he heard Morgana calling Morgause her sister. Not surprising, giving Morgana’s mother’s heritage.

Then Merlin was trying to kill him.

Then Merlin was trying not to kill him.

It made no sense, so Arthur rose to his feet and approached the tree once more, finding that the entrance that had once been there had disappeared completely. He lay a hand on the bark, feeling that unwelcome vibe once more.

“Please, I need to make sure he’s okay,” he whispered, and just like that; he closed his eyes and moved forward, met by golden balls of light and newly blossomed blue and purple flowers sprouting from between the twisted roots. 

Arthur hesitated to move any further, because despite the beautiful scene before him, there was something particularly dark about the feeling in his gut.

“Merlin?” Arthur called apprehensively. “Merlin, are you here?”

“Shhh, we don’t want to disrupt,” came a whisper. It was unmistakably Merlin’s voice, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Merlin, where are you?” Arthur whispered back, his eyes darting frantically around at the vines and roots beneath and around him.

“My body is beneath, healing, but I am right here,” Merlin replied, and at the other side, from between a bundle of vines, a shadowy figure emerged. It didn’t look human; it didn’t even look real. But it was Merlin, undeniably so. Arthur could feel it. 

What was alarming, however, was that as Merlin approached, the new flowers around him seemed to wither at his presence.

“Oh, don’t pay too much mind to that,” Merlin said, as though reading Arthur’s mind as he remembered the look of Merlin’s translucent skin and his animalistic, inhumane eyes. “I suppose you want to know what I am?” 

“You’re Merlin,” Arthur replied immediately. “Aren’t you?”

There was a sinister laugh, again unmistakably Merlin but darker than Arthur had ever heard him before. 

“I suppose you’re right. I am Merlin, probably more of him than he ever realised he had inside of him.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what Merlin was talking about, or where exactly this was going. He decided not to interrupt, instead nodding at the shadowy figure for him to continue.

“You see, Arthur. I am of a type of magic that is more powerful than any other in the world. I was born of magic. Magic is me, and I am magic. I am part of the net that ties the world together. Without me, there is no magic. Without magic, there is no me.

“It was rather fortunate that I came across this tree when I did. This tree is like me, of the same type of magic. However, it has been alive for a very long time, and is a lot more practiced than me. The tree helped me restore my magic when I was depleted and weak, but in doing so, it unleashed the full power of my magic; this uncovered a darker, hidden side. Now, after using that magic and allowing it to become a part of me, the tree has realised that the darker magic must not be a part of who I am, for it would disrupt my destiny. Our destiny.”

“So, you became evil?” asked Arthur, realising too late that he spoke to soon. He had believed for his whole life that magic of any kind was evil, so surely dark magic was the worst of them all? But then Merlin still hadn’t killed him, had he?

“Not quite,” replied Merlin, his voice completely without humor now. “But there was potential for me to become evil. Arthur, do you know what is beneath the ever-growing roots of this tree?”

“What are you telling me?” asked Arthur, confusion at the forefront of his emotions. "Is it you?" 

“Yes, it is me. But my body is merely a grain of sand amongst amount of magic beneath our feet. I was stabbed by Morgause. I used the very last of my magic to make sure you were safe. If I had done that anywhere else, I would have died. Fortunately, the tree was able to filter that darker magic, only allowing the purest parts of it to save you. The rest was filtered back into my body, which is what you are speaking with now. I am Merlin’s magic, without its purest elements. Those are part of you now, Arthur.”

So, if Arthur had the purest parts of Merlin’s magic, what did that mean for Merlin? That he would become a different person? That he wouldn’t be allowed out of the tree?

“I don’t want it, you can have it back.” Arthur urged, dismissing the thought of leaving this tree without the man he would have happily given his life for.

“Unfortunately, that is not how magic works. Don’t fret, though. Those of magic who die in this tree are absorbed by it. Their magic is kept safe, and today that magic is being purified and absorbed by me.”

Then the figure began to move forwards once more, this time creating a shape; human and life-like. Arthur looked and began making out shapes, forms, and there was colour there-barely visible but certainly there.

“But if that magic is being purified, why can’t the tree just purify this part of your magic?” Arthur asked, gesturing at the slowly approaching figure.

“Because it is like I said before, Arthur. I am of the most powerful type of magic, and it is my destiny to be the greatest sorcerer that ever lived. This is prophesied. The tree has made the decision to make the ultimate sacrifice to see that through, but this strong, dark magic can not be allowed back into my body. Instead, the tree will absorb it, be taken over by it.”

Then things started to make sense in Arthur’s head.  _ The ultimate sacrifice. _

“You are going to kill the tree?” Arthur asked. The question sounding pathetic, but the tree was just as alive as any man, woman or child Arthur had ever met. 

“It was the tree’s decision. It is not what I would have chosen.” Merlin answered.

“Noble as ever, then?” Arthur joked, and was surprised when Merlin laughed. Not dark or sinister, but Merlin as Arthur had always known him. 

“Says Mister ‘left-camelot-to-save-my-servant’s-life’?” Merlin retaliated, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile, despite what was still left to do.

“Merlin, we have to go back. My Father has gone completely mad. We need a plan, and we need to get Aredian  _ out _ of Camelot. It is absolutely imperative.”

“You’re right. There is a lot we need to discuss, a lot that I have learned. If you wouldn’t mind standing aside, I’ll be out as quickly as I can.”

“You’ll- hang on, you’re leaving now? But your magic-”

“Is fine. My magic is ready. But it’s no good without a body to carry it.” 

With that, Merlin’s shadow disappeared. Arthur barely had time to move before the roots beneath him began to twist and turn. They started moving aside at the middle to allow for Merlin’s body to appear, his arms and legs moving with the tree as he regained his consciousness. 

Arthur rushed to Merlin’s body, to where the ground around him seemed to blossom with new life in the form of flowers, light, and delicate blue butterflies. 

“I’ve got you,” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s arm and guiding him out from between the branches. 

Merlin slowly raised his head, opening his eyes slowly and offering a weak smile, tentative after their confrontation. Arthur quickly offered his hand, and helped Merlin stand. The movement was wobbly at first, perhaps a little awkward too. Not until Merlin regained strength and looked Arthur in the eye, did Arthur see him for how beautiful he truly was. 

There were several quiet moments between them, where they just looked. In his mind, Arthur figured that there was a lot to be said right now, but he really wasn't one for non-verbal communication. 

Perhaps thinking similarly, Merlin's eyes wrinkled at the corners, the way they always did; the way Arthur loved so much. 

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Merlin asked. 

As it happened, Arthur wasn't really one for beating around the bush, either. 

With a haste and confidence he didn't know he had, Arthur took Merlin's arms in his hands, the material of Merlin's thin shirt scratching against his cold fingertips. He pushed, and Merlin relented; falling back onto the roots below with little grace and a teeter of laughter. He was certain his trousers were caught on a branch and with the way his elbow was bizzarely situated between two parts of tree root, he had very limited movement. 

But none of that mattered, and so he kissed Merlin. Just soft. Just barely there. Just once. 

"There are no time for jokes, Merlin." Arthur whispered onto Merlin's lips, their foreheads pressed together. 

“You’re right," Merlin breathed, his cheeks flushing pink and a shy smile spreading across his face. "I believe we have work to do.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin watched apprehensively from the mouth of the tent while a lone knight rode into the camp on a familiar black Friesian horse. Lunete was rarely used for riding or battle, and it had been Merlin who had found her abandoned on a trip a while back. Using Lunete to ride to the camp was either a truce offering or a trap. 

It had been three months since Merlin had used his newly replenished powers to rip the magical tree's roots from the earth. Since then; Arthur, Morgana and he had gathered and sent word to all of those who practiced or were born with magic. Some of them no longer had a reason to help, and some of them were too keen on a war; but even without them, they had gathered a small army of druids, practicing sorcerers, and those few, like Merlin, who just had powers without knowing what to do with them. 

So, here in the mouth of Olwen’s tent, Merlin waited and watched as Arthur walked forward to meet the knight. Arthur, looking as regal as ever in a Pendragon red cloak and a crown of vines and leaves.

Too much had happened in a short space of time. Arthur, Merlin and Morgana hatched the plan and set to work straight away. Merlin and Morgana stayed with Olwen to remain safe while Arthur left to seek help from those behind the cause. There had been magic training, feasts, welcoming ceremonies, and when Arthur returned he was blessed with a druid naming ceremony, titling him as the Once and Future King of Camelot, whose purpose was to unite all of Albion and bring peace to all kingdoms. He protested and complained of course, but he couldn’t see it from everyone else’s eyes. He couldn’t see just how fitting he was for the role of a King.

Meanwhile, Merlin was going by ‘Emrys’, his name amongst those with magic. Emrys signified all the magics that ever were and could be, and was pure and good and ever-living. It was a lot to grasp, and it hadn’t really sunk in yet. He was still convinced that everyone had the wrong person. 

He watched the exchange from afar, using all of his will not to use his magic to eavesdrop; this was Arthur’s task, not his own. Everyone was keeping far out of sight as Prince Arthur and Sir Owain seemed to talk for a very long time. Then after a breeze drifted through the camp, rattling the odd wooden chime, the knight climbed atop Lunete, and rode right out of the camp without a backwards glance.

Arthur stayed unmoving.

Slowly, people began to move from the tents, too cautious to actually approach Arthur.

“You should go to him.” Olwen said gently from behind Merlin.

“No, I will let Morgana.” Merlin replied. How could he go to Arthur now? He wouldn’t even know what to say. It was no secret to Merlin that he had developed feelings for the Prince of Camelot, and it was truly an unacceptable idea. Not only was Merlin male, but he was of magic- and if everyone was right then he not only had magic, but he was immortal. Merlin wouldn’t ever act upon his feelings, and it would be best to keep his distance. Arthur had shown no similar emotion to what he had back in the tree, which could only mean that it was a one off, a mistake. 

“Suit yourself. But know that he will come to you for guidance anyway,” said Olwen, and the teasing tone in her voice made him twitch with frustration; as for such a peaceful and strong leader, she was equally as childish from time to time. What was even more annoying was that she was always right. Arthur sharply turned on his feet and headed fast in Merlin’s direction, passing Olwen who looked back with a smirk. 

“I hate you,” Merlin communicated to her, and though she didn’t answer, he knew she heard. 

“Merlin,” Arthur exclaimed in a hushed tone, physically pushing Merlin back into the tent and untying the ropes around the entrance, letting is waft shut behind them.

“Sire,” Merlin replied, and Arthur pulled a bitter face.

“Oh, Merlin let off with that nonsense would you? You know I’m not King, just because they say it, it doesn’t mean you have to.”

“You aren’t king  _ yet. _ ” Merlin mumbled.

“Oh, hush would you? You’re like a moody infant with the way you’ve been moping around the camp recently. Lighten up!” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s shoulders with a huge smile and giving them a shake.

“I’m not sure there is a reason not to be moping, Arthur. I have been stuck in this camp for three months, my family is dead, and I seem to be doing nothing about it. I’m just-”

“He said yes.” Arthur interrupted, and Merlin stopped talking.

“Excuse me?” Merlin said, confused.

“Owain, he said yes. The knights have pledged their allegiance to our cause, every last one of them. Apparently Aredian has them fighting one another day in, day out to try and find knights ‘worthy of the fight against magic’.”

“And Uther?” Merlin asked.

“He’s barely left his room since I left.” Arthur sighed. Merlin knew he had it hard at the moment. Uther had been a tyrant back in the purge, but now he was being compromised, and he was still Arthur’s father at the end of the day. 

“Well, I guess we have a plan to carry out then.” Merlin replied, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be one of Arthur’s advisors once all of this was over. That much he was capable of.

 

* * *

 

Merlin stood in front of the people that he and Arthur had gathered. They had never meant for it to look like a threat, and as directed, no one had used any magic once they had passed through the lower town.

Arthur stood just ahead of Merlin, waiting. He had demanded and audience with the King and ‘Lord’ Aredian as he was supposedly being referred to by those lesser than himself. The villagers and townsfolk showed intrigue, rather than alarm. After all, what harm could these people be if they were being led by the noble Prince of Camelot? What harm could they be if Arthur had told the people of Camelot just now that he was going to right all the wrongs and created a kinder, united nation.

The voices around sharply dimmed to a hiss of hushed whispers as Uther himself entered the clearing in the courtyard.

“Father,” Arthur nodded, neither friendly ot impolite. 

But it was not Arthur that Uther openly stared at, the son who had been missing from Camelot being supposedly abducted by sorcerers out to seek revenge. Nor was it the traitorous ward, who supposedly learned of her true heritage and went insane with grief and mistrust. 

Merlin hadn’t ever expected to be the focus of Uther’s attention, and the more he looked around, it seemed that everyone seemed to be looking in his direction. What was more alarming, was that no one in their group seemed particularly surprised.

“You.” Uther whispered, a fresh look of horror taking over his already gaunt-looking features. Worry was not a look suited to the King of Camelot. 

“Father, I would ask that you hear what I have-”

“You will let me speak!” Uther snapped, pointing a finger in Arthur’s direction and keeping his eyes locked on Merlin’s. “You! You have brainwashed my son into coming here-”

“No!” Arthur shouted, moving in front of Merlin and interrupting Uther’s line of sight. “You will let  _ me _ speak! I have stood before this audience and addressed them as is my right as Prince. They have agreed with me that magic is not something to live in fear of, or to strike at without cause. You will lift the ban, Father.”

Merlin peered over Uther’s shoulder, under strict instruction not to speak or react until they had planned. Uther was glaring at his son in disgrace, so Arthur took the lack of speech as a sign to carry on.

“I must say, I have told somewhat of a lie to the people here. Magic is, for the most part, a natural and good practice. However, while you have cowered behind those walls and sent your men out to kill Merlin’s family, despite his Mother residing outside of Camelot’s borders, you had bigger things to worry about.” Arthur then turned to address the people stood in the courtyard around him.

“What you all didn’t realise, was that aside from the Lady Morgana and Merlin, there was another residing behind those walls who was born of magic. Another who was harmless, and trained to act against something that was a part of him. Your King and his Queen wanted a child so desperately that they consorted with-”

“Arthur, stop!” Uther demanded, but Arthur just met his eyes with the most beautifully fierce glare Merlin had ever seen.

“My father consorted with the high priestess, Nimueh and begged for a child, and he got more than what he bargained for. How does the saying go Merlin?” Arthur asked, his voice so full with raw emotion that Merlin barely thought he was keeping it together.

“In order to give a life, another must be taken. There must be a balance.” Merlin spoke, his own voice sounding alien as it spoke with such confidence in such a public place. 

“Yes. The balance that was paid by my Mother! Your king, people of Camelot, has ordered death against those with magic because of his own misunderstanding of magic. For his own, personal gain. But as justice would have it, in my absence the King’s mind has been twisted by a genuinely evil sorcerer who has been residing in Camelot this whole time.”

This was met by horrified gasps from the surrounding crowd, and Uther finally broke his confident facade by looking down the floor and lifting a hand to his eyes.

“Where is Aredian father? Didn’t I ask to see him too?” Arthur asked, and then turned to look at Merlin. That was his cue. 

Merlin raised a single hand and whispered an enchantment in his mind that swept over the crowd like wind, before pulling down the hood of a wizened, bald old man. 

“There.” Merlin said, looking straight back to Arthur.

“That is not Aredian, that is some poor old man on whom you are trying to lay the blame for all of this nonsense!” Uther shouted, though his voice quivered with untamed emotion.

“Isn’t it?” Arthur asked, equally as emotive, and Merlin snapped his fingers and watched as the old man began to flinch and twitch and yelp; and the crowd surrounding tried to back off in alarm as the old man transformed into Aredian right before their eyes.

“There we are, Father. It seems you were chasing the wrong people this whole time. Do it now, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed, for he had always known that this was part of the plan. Though he did want revenge on behalf of his Mother and on behalf of Gaius, this was never the way he wanted it. Not at his own hands. But that was the way Arthur instructed. 

He looked at Aredian, whose eyes barely flashed yellow before Merlin brought into effect his immediate focus, and that smallest element of magic that he had wished so desperately to never use again, rose to the surface of his mind.

Just like that, Aredian was dead. The courtyard fell into immediate silence.

“You will lift the ban on magic, or you will leave.” Arthur said, tears seemingly beginning to pool in his eyes. How strong he was for someone so young. They were both thrown in too deep and too soon.

“How can you expect me to lift the ban after that monster has been controlling and using me? And did you all not see that this… this  _ thing _ just killed a man without a word or even a motion?” Uther hissed at Merlin, and Merlin felt a pang of hurt somewhere inside. He’d never been called a ‘thing’

“Take him away to the dungeons.” Arthur sighed, exasperated.

“You expect someone to lock me in my own dungeon?” Uther asked, bewildered.

“Yes, while you were hiding away your army pledged its allegiance to the rightful Prince of Camelot, and a scroll was signed naming me, as rightful heir, acting head to the throne. The king had been compromised, after all.” Arthur said, as two Knights walked Uther out of the courtyard. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur rolled his eyes when there was a knock on his door, despite it being slightly open.

“Leon, if you knock on that door once more I will put you in the stocks myself.” Arthur sighed, but despite his awful mood, Leon’s infernal knocking was not unwelcome.

“You were gone for some time. I was beginning to wonder if you’d come back.” Leon said, pushing the door closed behind him.

“Yes, well. It took a long time to figure things out. You knew I left of my own accord?”

“Well, Morgana might be a pain but there’s no way you’d ever let anything happen to her. And Merlin- well, we all know you’d never leave Merlin in danger.” Leon answered, bowing his head.

“That obvious, is it?” asked Arthur, bringing his hand to his forehead. Normally, his feeling would not be something to openly discuss, but he and Leon had always been close. In a duty-free world, Arthur would have called him a best friend.

“I sometimes wondered, before all of this. But now, you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.” Leon smiled, his cheeks reddening.

“Yes, it would seem nobody can take their eyes off him.” Arthur replied, thinking back to the courtyard, then back to when they first found the druid camp, and more or less every time someone had met Merlin for the first time. He understood, of course, that with Merlin’s new magic his appearance had changed. He was ethereal, seeming to glow with the light of a thousand suns. His skin was paler, but in a warming way; his hair richer, his grace and elegance a far cry from the way he used to be.

The worst part was that Merlin hadn’t even noticed, and no one had ever really told him.

“You know, now that I come to think of it, you always looked at him that way. You just do it more openly now.” Leon said, and Arthur sniffed a laugh. He appreciated Leon’s intentions, but now wasn’t the time.

“Leon, I’m about to exile my own Father.” Arthur said, the sting of hurt still very real, very raw. He had saved it up after having found out how he was born, and that it had killed his mother. After Olwen had told he, Merlin and Morgana everything they would ever need to know. 

“Yes, and it shows that you are a strong leader, but not a cruel one. He can still live a life, find new bearings, and make peace with his mistakes.” Leon sat down on the end of the bed next to Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder. “He has to learn to live with himself after all that he has done.”

Arthur nodded then, and looked out of his window at the horizon where the sun was starting to sink down behind the land.

“Go on, then. We can head to the tavern after for a quiet drink?” Leon suggested. Arthur stood up, smiled, but shook his head.

“Thank you Leon, really, but I think I have other things that I need to do.”

Leon also stood, nodded, and then took his leave. 

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you at least have anything to say to me before you go?” Arthur asked Uther, who sat atop Hengist, his own Stallion.

Uther merely shook his head.  “For a servant? All of this for someone so small, so disposable,”

Arthur looked to Merlin, who stood by his side, and despite his new confident and otherworldly appearance, Arthur could see the look of self-doubt and apprehension on his face. The experiences with dark magic had changed him.

“You’d do all of this for someone of his… his-”

“His what?” Arthur asked, and Uther seemed unable to answer. “Well then, I suppose this is the last I will be seeing of you, at least for some time. Do you at least have anything to say to Merlin?” 

Arthur watched as Uther met Merlin’s eyes, and Merlin seemed to cower slightly under his tired gaze.

“No, I don’t. He is-”

Arthur lifted a finger to silence his Father before more damage could be done. He then took off his gloves, and handed them to Uther. “Here, it’s a cold night. You’ll need them.”

Then Arthur watched, deadpan, as his father looked confusedly at the gloves, then looked back at Arthur’s own hands- one of which slowly made its way to Merlin’s. And though his Father’s reaction to that would have surely been worth seeing, Arthur instead chose to take in the look of shock on Merlin’s face. 

“Arthur, wh-” Uther started.

“ Merlin may be small and disposable to the likes of someone like you, but he is rather important to me. Now if you would, you may take your leave. I’m sorry this was how it had to be.  Goodbye, Father.” said Arthur with a brisk nod, and with a gentle pat to Hengist’s rear, the stallion rode forth towards the lower town.

They stood hand-in-hand at the castle gates, surrounded by villagers and magic-folk alike who exchanged friendly conversation. There was no sense of instability or doubt at all.

“You know, you can let go now. I think you did the job of scaring him off,” Merlin mumbled, and Arthur turned and looked deep into his eyes for the first time since inside the magical tree.

“I could,” said Arthur, moving his eyes down to where his and Merlin’s fingers were tied together between them. He stared for a moment, then huffed a small laugh before looking back to Merlin. “But I don’t think I want to.” 

And despite being unsure of how Camelot would fare without a King, and how they would go about fixing all that had happened, they returned to the castle with smiles on their faces. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't thank the people of Chatzy enough for pulling me through my writers block. Especially Rawks, a fantastic beta and wonderful friend.
> 
> Thanks as well to Caledonia who is my writer-world soulmate.


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